Green Eggs and Ham
by flutiedutiedute
Summary: *Part V: Epilogue now up* Three years after their first Christmas together, a lot has changed. How are the Hero and his Princess coping? Please R/R.
1. Part I

**Green Eggs and Ham**

Part I

Author: Robbie (curlygurly87@hotmail.com)

Spoilers: Not really, General up through what we've seen of Season 9  

Archive: Ask and you shall receive. 

Disclaimer:  While I'd love to be able to lay claim to every character in the story, not a one really belongs to me.  They are the property of the big shots at NBC, Warner Brothers, Amblin Productions etc … 

Authors note: This piece originally started out as a standalone but ended up being almost 20 pages long.  Therefore, I have decided to separate it into a mini series.  The entire series takes place within the space of one day and each new part starts off virtually where the last part left off.  _The sections entirely in italics indicate Abby's thoughts.  I'd love to hear your thoughts! Feedback would be great! _

Props to Sara for beta-ing … thanks much, deary! 

Summary: Carter and Abby's first Christmas as a couple through Abby's POV.  Enjoy … 

--------------------

            "Asystole on the monitor." 

            "Come on . . . Son of a Bitch!"

            His strong arms beat incessantly on the frail chest of the woman that lies, lifeless, on the gurney before us.  A vein protrudes from his smooth forehead, pulsating in rhythm with his impassioned pounding.  His breathing is ragged and heavy as a bead of sweat trickles down the side of his face.  

            All the while, that interminable ring penetrates the silence.  Its high pitched tone never bends, never changes, never stops.  It's almost ironic that something so undying and so steady indicates the final chord of life; the finale of an opera, the cessation of beating in the heart that is death.      

            "It's flat line," a far away voice, that I can vaguely identify as Susan's, interrupts.  

            His eyes tear away from the unresponsive body, a shell of the exuberant person she once was. 

            "Charge the paddles, it's fine asystole, we can still get her back."

            "She's gone, Carter." A momentary pause. "Call it."

            He looks down for a split second, emotion spilling across his face.  His rich brown eyes avert back up from the table, but they are out of focus.  Apparently, he is staring into space, overcome by his feelings.  But I know better; he is looking at something.  Or rather, someone.  

            Defeat.  He stares it directly in the eye, and it mirrors in his eyes, his face, his body stance.  And with that, he turns and briskly leaves the tense trauma room.       

            Someone, I frankly don't care who, turns off the monitor, and for the first time since she came in, broken and bleeding, the room is utterly and completely silent. 

------------- 

            _I've lost patients before.  A hundred thousand times, I've looked death in the eye and lost.  I've seen death creep upon innocent bystanders quickly and painlessly and I've seen death linger for hours, days, years; causing immeasurable pain and suffering.  Working in such a fast-paced environment, you learn to deal with it.  It never gets easier to see death, but you have to teach yourself to put it behind you and move on.  He taught me that. _

_            But every so often, kind of like death preys upon its own victims, there will be a patient, a special patient who touches you in some intimate way.  And then, just like that, without fair warning, death snatches them away.  You try to get past it quickly like the hundreds of other cases you've seen, but you just can't shake that feeling of failure, of loss, of defeat._

-----  

            "John?"

            I push my body against the heavy door of the lounge, as if trying to seal it so we can be alone.  If he heard my quiet plea for recognition, he hasn't reacted.  His head hangs over the sink; body slumped against the counter.  

            I sigh.  

            And cross the room in a couple of easy strides.  I reach out and gently press the palm of my hand into the small of his back.  He flinches at my touch, turning around to look at me seconds later.  No words pass between us, but like a convection oven gives heat to food, I feel his torment transfer just in time to ripple through me.  

            He pulls me to him, and I close my eyes, relishing the quiet moment between us.  His arms snake around my waist, holding on for dear life as he rests his head gently upon mine. I love how even after roughly 6 months of being together; any physical contact with him can render me speechless.  I'm struck by my love for him, for everything about him.  I love him. 

            But now isn't the moment to tell him that.  In his own way, I know he knows.  Sometimes, you don't have to say it out loud.  We both look up and quickly pull away as Malik walks into the lounge. 

            "What kinda trouble are you two up to in here?" He wonders aloud, a mirthless smirk decorating his face.

            I roll my eyes and unwillingly smile at the male nurse, whom I've come to think of as a friend over the years we've worked here together.  

            "Malik, …" I begin. 

            "Aren't you going to kiss her?" Malik interrupts.  

            "What?" Carter replies, furrowing his brow.  

            "You're standing under the mistletoe, man.  Kiss her." He winks. 

            And sure enough, we look up to see a bough of green tied to the ceiling right above our heads.  Carter leans in to press a quick peck to my forehead and turns quickly back to Malik, who is leaving the lounge. 

            "That's lame, Carter …"

-------------

Thoughts, comments, criticisms? You tell me … I'd love to get some feedback and provided this is received well, I have some more parts written.  Thanks!  


	2. Part II

**Green Eggs and Ham**

Part II

Author: Robbie (curlygurly87@hotmail.com)

Spoilers: Not really, General up through what we've seen of Season 9  

Archive: Ask and you shall receive. 

Disclaimer:  While I'd love to be able to lay claim to every character in the story, not a one really belongs to me.  They are the property of the big shots at NBC, Warner Brothers, Amblin Productions etc … 

Authors note: Part II picks up virtually where part I left off.  Thanks so much to my reviewers, it's always a boost to my self-esteem to hear positive comments.  As per your requests, this part is a little bit longer …  I'd love to hear your thoughts! Feedback would be great. 

Thanks again to Sara for beta-ing.

Summary: Carter and Abby's first Christmas as a couple. Enjoy … 

--------------------

_            She was young and beautiful, late twenties.  She had the brightest blue eyes, clear as the sky on a spring day and a short hair style with cropped auburn curls spilling around her smiling face.  She came in one day, a distinctive sparkle twinkling in those sapphire eyeballs of hers, clutching the hand of her 3 year old daughter.  Any old stranger on the street would have been able to tell you they were mother and child.  The resemblance was indubitable; the same curly auburn tresses framing a rosy, round face and those eyes. _

_            It was a particularly busy day in the ER. The weather outside was foul, windy and bitingly chilly. She'd been waiting for hours in triage, patiently succumbing to the needs of other, more serious cases.  Her young daughter was so well behaved, so adorable. _

_            We finally got her into a room.  She was so thankful for the ten minutes Carter and I spent with her before we were rushed away to help in with multiple victims of a gang shooting spree.  Hours later, by the time we got to her, there was a slowdown in the ER.  _

_            She complained of abdominal pain and some nausea and vomiting.  Taking the history, we soon learned that she was a leukemia patient, and had been in remission for the better part of two years.  Growing up, her younger brother died of leukemia after she'd been almost like a mother to him.  She'd always assumed that although there was a rich history of the disease in her family, she would be free from it.  After all, by the age of 20 she was still symptom free.   _

_            But at the age of 24, only two months after giving birth to her daughter, she found out about it.  We ran tests, wondering if maybe her sudden illness was in fact the disease returning with a vengeance.  But they all came back negative, save the one routine test we run on every young to middle age women who is sexually active.  _

_            She was pregnant.  Eight weeks, too early to tell her if it was a boy a girl, but she was thrilled to know simply that it was healthy.  She assured us that although her husband had a high stress job which he was very consumed with, he loved her and their daughter and he would be as happy as she was.  After her treatment, she wasn't sure that she would ever be able to give her daughter siblings.  And toting the sweet toddler by the hand, she left the hospital happily, just like she'd come in. _

_            Almost a month later, when the MVA came in - a young women with a young daughter, early thirties, who'd been driving in their small car when a drunk in a pickup blindsided them – the mop of auburn curls soaked by blood, laying on the gurney was unmistakable. _

_            We were far from personal friends, and I'd even call it a stretch to call us personal acquaintances.  She'd been a patient, like the hundreds of others that we treat on a daily basis, which we managed to help.  But in some odd way, she'd touched us that day.  Perhaps it was the intensity in her bright blue eyes or the beautiful contrast between her pale freckled skin and that rich burgundy hair.  Maybe it was the kindness that resonated from her soft spoken voice, or the strength we could detect in her character.  Maybe Carter saw echoes of himself and his brother Bobby's struggle with Leukemia.  Perhaps I saw a shadow of myself and the strength I had to draw from my inner reserves to overcome my own struggle to raise my baby brother.  We both admired her will, I wonder if I maybe felt a yearning to share the joys of motherhood with her.  Whatever the reason, Carter and I felt some sort of inexplicable connection with this woman.  A woman whose name I can't even recall.    _

_        Here, not a month after our first meeting, she's dead; the tiny baby growing inside her womb, who never got a chance at life, dead with her.  The two people she cared about most in this world, her husband and young daughter, are left alone, without the one bond that holds them together.  They are estranged due to the lack of time they have spent together; the toddler has spent every waking moment with her mother, building an intimate relationship, while her hardworking father toils away at the office, raising money to support his growing family. _

_            And here in this ER, two more people, who share a very distant connection with this lovely woman, are too, devastated by her death.  The sheer irony that a women could overcome so much, including deadly cancer, only to have her life taken by a drunk driver who will walk away tomorrow with a nasty hangover, a couple of stitches in his forehead and without a care in the world is enough to effect us for a long time. _

------------

            Christmas Eve.  Outside, a thousand twinkling lights illuminating the city are being blanketed by a soft dusting of powdery snow.  Thick, white snowflakes are drifting to the ground, as if swaying to the musical rhythms of Christmas jingles being played in homes throughout the city.  

            Inside County General's Emergency Room, like the thick covering of snow blanketing Chicago, a calm aura has settled.  The few patients being treated for various ailments have long since fallen asleep.  Our own array of glittering lights, wrapped around the ceiling beams and wall trimmings all over the department are reminder of the holiday cheer that is said to embrace the city. 

            But the cheerful and serene atmosphere isn't entirely real.  The holiday spirit has failed to spread down the hall, in the dark trauma room that still contains the dead body of the beautiful woman with the crimson curls and azure eyes that will never sparkle again.  

            Her husband has just arrived, face pale with shock and misery.  I take him by the arm and lead him to the room where his wife spent her last waking moments.  

            "I loved her so much," he whispers softly as I lead him along.  He stumbles blindly down the corridor, impulsively grabbing my hand and clutching it tightly in his strong grip, much like Carter did earlier today.  "I don't think she knew …"

            "She knew," I assure him with a somber, but confident voice.  

            We come to a halt outside the trauma doors.  "Was she in a lot of pain?" 

            I shake my head slowly.  "She wasn't conscious for very long, her death was quick and painless."

            I'm lying of course.  She was lying in that car in the snow for almost an hour, pinned by the warped metal of her damaged vehicle.  She must have suffered immensely in that time and the time we worked on her.  Even dulled with pain I hope never to experience, her eyes retained that sparkle.  But she's been put of that misery; she has been relieved of her pain now that she's gone.  To tell him that she didn't suffer can't harm anyone; it'll only help to ease the pain her husband is feeling. So I make amends with myself. 

            "Her last thoughts were concern for you and your daughter, Mr. Reynolds," I tell him, placing a reassuring hand on his upper arm.  He nods, closing his eyes, and bracing himself for what he's about to see.  "She wanted to make sure that _you knew how much she loved you."_

            "Can I see her now?"

            I nod.  "I have to warn you, there are going to be a lot of tubes.  The doctors tried everything they could to save your wife, including opening her chest and applying CPR directly to her heart.  The nurses have cleaned her up some, but don't be afraid to touch her."

            I push open the door and we walk into the room.  It is a ghostlike replica of the action that usually consumes this room; a picture drawn with white chalk on grey cardboard, dull and colorless* now that the bustling array of doctors and nurses have long since left.  The silence that hangs thickly in the air gives no testimony to the chorus of beeping and chirping the machines made during her trauma.  Scattered around the room are many discarded items used during the trauma that have yet to be cleaned up.  They are the only physical evidence of the struggle to save this woman's life that took place in here hours ago.  In time, they too will be cleared, and only the memory of her bright eyes and pleasant laugh will linger on the walls of the hospital.   

            I walk slowly over to the body and pull down the bloodstained sheet someone has draped over her corpse. I've finished my duties as a nurse, but I can't shake the feeling that I haven't done enough.  

            "I'll be at the front desk if you need anything …" He nods before I finish my sentence and I turn to leave the room.

            He situates himself next to the body, at first reaching out tentatively to touch her.  But as soon as he makes contact with her cold skin, I actually see his resolve collapse as he breaks down sobbing, stroking her hair and kissing her forehead. 

            "Take as much time as you need," I whisper, turning around and leaving him and his beloved in privacy.  

---------------------     

            It's been over an hour that he's been sitting with her.  But things are slow, we don't need the room, and I'm determined to make it my job that he has as long as he needs with her.  My shift ended ten minutes ago, so I sit here and wait.  I pretend to be involved in the running conversation among the nurses at the desk.  Five minutes ago, they were talking about their various holiday plans, but I've since stopped listening and fleetingly wonder if this is still the topic of conversation before my thoughts are again consumed by this touching family.  

            "Abby."

            Carter comes up behind me, gently massaging my shoulders with strong hands.  I close my eyes and tip my head back to see him.  He places a peck on my nose, and as my cheeks color with affection, a smile unwillingly spreads across my face.  

            "Come with me," he whispers in my ear.  

            Taking his hand, I hop to the floor and he leads me towards someplace we can talk in relative quiet; the drug lockup.  

            "How's the little girl?"

            He sighs and his shoulders slump. 

            "Sasha."

            "That's her name?"

            He nods. 

            "Yeah." He takes a deep breath. "I haven't told her. She keeps asking for her mother, but I just can't bring myself to tell her.  I told her that her dad is here, but she didn't seem to care much."

            I exhale slowly, carefully deciding what to say. And then I frown. 

            "It's all so unfair.  She was finally so happy, and then this …"

            "Death is never really fair, Abby."

            I briefly struggle with the words I'm about to say. 

            "I just keep thinking that … she reminds me so much of myself.  If she can overcome so much and finally be happy with her husband and child only to have it taken away, what does that mean for me, for us?"

            Without an answer to my anguished thoughts, he leans in and kisses my forehead.  

            "I'm going to sit with her.  Let me know when the father is ready to break it to her."       

---------------------

* This line was paraphrased from The Scarlet Pimpernel by Baroness Orczy … A great book, BTW ;)

Thoughts, comments, criticisms? You tell me … I'd love to get some feedback and provided this is received well, I still have some more parts written.  Thanks!  


	3. Part III

**Green Eggs and Ham**

Part III

Author: Robbie (curlygurly87@hotmail.com)

Spoilers: Not really, General up through what we've seen of Season 9  

Archive: Ask and you shall receive. 

Disclaimer:  While I'd love to be able to lay claim to every character in the story, not a one really belongs to me.  They are the property of the big shots at NBC, Warner Brothers, Amblin Productions etc … 

Authors Notes: See Parts I & II

Thanks for beta-ing, Sara. 

Summary: Carter and Abby's first Christmas as a couple. Enjoy … 

--------------------

            The somber man walks up to admit, face tearstained and eyes bloodshot.  "My daughter?" he croaks in a broken voice, "Sasha."

            "Yeah, follow me.  Dr. Carter, the doctor who treated your wife should be with her."

            "Does she uh … know about her mother?"

            I shake my head.  "We thought it would be easiest for you to tell her. If you want we could …"

            "No. It's my responsibility as her father."  He briefly pauses.  "Is she hurt?"

            "Some cuts and scratches mostly.  The nurses have bandaged her up.  She should be fine in a couple of weeks, kids are pretty resilient."

            For the first time, he looks my directly in the eye. "How did it happen?"

            I sigh.  "Your wife pulled into the intersection when the light turned green.  A drunk in a pick-up truck hit her from the left, and made impact right where she was sitting."

            "Sasha must have been sitting on the other side of the car.  She liked to be able to see her mother while she drove."

            I nod dully in quiet recognition. 

            As we approach the exam room, a voice gently wafts through the pleasantly quiet atmosphere of the ER.  

            "I will not eat them, Sam I am, I will not eat green eggs and ham …"

            "More, more!" a delighted voice cries impatiently.  I hear her clapping her hands.  

            My breath catches in my throat.  It's Carter, reading to Sasha, bringing some happiness into her life in wake of the tragedy she still doesn't know about.  Like a ton of bricks, I suddenly realize what a wonderful father my boyfriend will make someday.  And I realize with a start, that I want to be the mother to his children.  I want to spend the rest of my life by his side, to stumble upon him reading this classic story and others to his own children.  His children that are also my own.  

            "I don't know if I can do this …"  

            Mr. Reynolds.  I suddenly remember his presence, the impossible task which he is about to complete.  My heart fills with sorrow and pity.    

            "You can and you will, Mr. Reynolds." 

            I fail to mention the other factor; he must.  We walk into the room.  Both Carter and Sasha look up.  Carter is sitting on the bed, legs thrown carelessly over the side and Sasha is curled up in the crook of his arm, listening in captivation to the story. Her eyes light up as we enter the room. 

            "Daddy!"

            "Hi sweetheart." I blink back the sting of tears.  Suddenly he's by the bed, holding her to him tightly, smothering her with kisses.  

            "Come on Carter," I whisper and we leave them to mourn again, in privacy. As he gently shuts the door behind us, and we begin to walk away, a primitive whimper of pure tortured agony cuts through the ER. 

            "Mommy …"  

---------------------     

            Our shifts are both long over as we walk into the lounge.  I walk over to the couch, tiredly plopping down, instantly closing my eyes and propping my feet up on the coffee table in front of me. 

            "What time is it?"

            He looks at his watch. "11:59 … 12:00, Merry Christmas, Abby."

            I open my eyes and smile at him, patting the couch next to me.  He comes over and grasps my hand, showering a flowery kiss on each knuckle.  

            "Do you ever think about having a family someday?"

            My heart skips a beat.  Apparently, his thoughts have been on the same path as mine today.  "Someday maybe.  I suppose there's that feminine part of me that has always wanted to be a mother."

            He releases my hand, reaching up with both of his hands to encircle my cheeks.  "Really?"

            I nod.  "Someday."

            He's quiet for a moment.  

            "If we had a baby …" he murmurs. 

            "And if it was bipolar …" I finish. 

            "Then we'd still love it no matter what.  You know that, right?"

            I nod again, closing my eyes and turning away from him.

            "What's wrong?"

            "I don't know if I could go through that again. Eric, my mother … it's too much."

            "It would be us, together, Abby.  You wouldn't be alone.  Besides, the chance of that actually happening is remote."

            "There's still a chance.  I'm a carrier."

            "Hey." He turns my face to look at him.  "I'm not Richard, I would love any baby that's ours.  Promise me that you understand that."

            I shake my head in affirmation, feeling the familiar sting of tears behind my eyelids.  

            "I'm tired, take me home." For now this conversation is over, he's not going to push it.  For now.  

------------------ 

            Ten minutes later, bundled in clothing and laden with our stuff, we're ready to leave.  

            "One more thing, Abby."

            "What?"

            Carter grabs me by the hands and pulls me over to the sink, right under the mistletoe.  A smile spreads across his face and my cheeks go warm with anticipation as I elicit a playful giggle.  Enveloping my face in his warm hands, he leans in places a passionate kiss on my lips which I eagerly reciprocate.  Perfect timing too, as a whole slew of doctors and nurses, Malik included walk into the lounge, cheering and clapping.  

            "Now that is what I'm talking about, Carter man." Malik yells, whistling through his fingertips. 

            The lounge fills with the noise of their planned Christmas party; clinking glasses, food being opened and set up, conversations.  Blushing wildly, I'm led by Carter out the side door and into the chilly night air.  

--------------------- 

Thoughts, comments, criticisms? You tell me … I'd love to get some feedback and provided this is received well, I have some more parts written.  Thanks!  


	4. Part IV

**Green Eggs and Ham**

**Part IV**

Author: Robbie (curlygurly87@hotmail.com)

Spoilers: Not really, General up through what we've seen of Season 9  

Archive: Ask and you shall receive. 

Disclaimer:  While I'd love to be able to lay claim to every character in the story, not a one really belongs to me.  They are the property of the big shots at NBC, Warner Brothers, Amblin Productions etc … 

Authors Notes: See Parts I & II

Thanks for beta-ing, Sara. 

Summary: Carter and Abby's first Christmas as a couple. Enjoy … 

-------------------

            I eagerly push past Carter and into the warm apartment.  "Jesus, it's freezing outside." 

            "Do you want something hot?" Carter wonders aloud, shedding his layers of clothing and hanging them on the coat rack. 

            "I'm exhausted, I just want to get into some comfy sweats and curl up under the covers." 

            "What about dinner?" 

            "Forget it.  I'm going to bed … you coming?"

            "You're not hungry?" He presses.  His eyes twinkle in the dim light.  

            Good god. Only a man; hungry 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.  It's like the one thing they can't live without … that and sex.

            "What are you up to, John?" 

            "When I was little, my brother and my cousin and I used to have the same dinner every Christmas Eve."

            "It's not Christmas Eve anymore," I point out. 

            He continues, obviously ignoring my comments. "It was a tradition.  We'd help the cook make up a big batch of fresh chocolate chip cookies and then we'd eat them for dinner with milk.  After we were finished, we'd set out whatever was left for Santa."

            "Cookies for dinner, huh?"

            He walks into the kitchen and opens the cabinet, turning to me with his hand outstretched. 

            "You coming?"

            I sigh and walk towards him, grinning in spite of myself.  "I'll get the milk."

----------------

            "Mmmm … that hit the spot," he murmurs, rubbing his stomach and looking pointedly in my direction. 

            I lean across the table and brush some cookie crumb from his chin.  I feign seriousness.  "Promise me something."

            He tilts hit chin and presses a kiss to my lips.  I murmur in satisfaction.  "Anything for you."

            "Don't ever grow a beard.  You're a messy enough eater as it is."  I jab him playfully in the chest. 

            "Hey, no fair … I made you cookies." He crosses his arms over his chest, a mock pout on his face.  

            "Do you know you're like a petulant little child when you don't get what you want?" 

            His eyes twinkle. 

            "You have to admit it … that was good." 

            I grin back. 

            "I wouldn't want you to make it a habit with our children." 

            Damn it.  I need to learn to hold my tongue.  Trust me to go and take a perfectly happy moment and kill it with something serious that I'm too afraid to discuss with him.  The grin falls off my face as he's silent.  

            He looks at me earnestly. 

            "You want to have my children?"

            "Not now, John … let's not do this now."

            "Answer me." 

            I stand up and carry my plate and cup to the sink, carefully setting them beside the stack of dirty dishes we have yet to wash. He comes up behind me reaching around my waist to set his own dishes in the sink.  But instead of withdrawing his arms and walking away, he settles them around my middle, resting his chin on my shoulder.  

            "I've been pregnant before," I mumble. 

            I turn myself around in his arms so that I'm facing him.  His tight, comforting grip never wavers, nor does the intense look he feeds me.  My heart begins to pound. 

            "I had an abortion.  I couldn't handle the thought …"

            I crumble in his arms, holding him tightly.  "It wouldn't be like that," he murmurs.   

            He rubs my back. 

            "I know.  That's what scares me most." 

------------- 

            It's almost five A.M., outside, the dark sky is sprinkled with bright stars that are just beginning to give way to daylight.  Glinting Christmas lights sparkle against the snow white palette of Chicago.  We're long finished with "dinner" as I stand in captivated silence beside the window and watch the picturesque world below me.

            "Come to bed, Abby," a groggy voice demands. I thought he fell asleep twenty minutes ago.

            "I thought you were asleep."

            I turn to look at him; he's but a dark shadow in the night, a figment of my dreams - his body, but a silhouette against the white sheet.  Shards of light that enter through the window as a car passes below on the street dance across his face.  

            "I was."

            I nod.  "But you're not now."

            "No, I'm not"

            "What are you doing?"

            "I'm watching you." 

            "You're watching me?"  

            I almost grin, when did this become a game of call and answer?

            "You're beautiful," He whispers, so low, I almost miss it.  I blush. 

            "What are _you doing?"_

            "I'm watching for Santa." My voice is dry and sarcastic.   

            "I think we missed him, it's getting light outside, close the curtain."  He wrinkles his nose at me and yawns.    

            A rush of adrenaline spurts through my body and I turn and smile brightly at him. "We forgot presents!"

            He groans, "Come back to bed."

            "Come on, you Grinch …" Carter turns over and pretends to go back to sleep, pulling the pillow over his head.  "John!"

-------------------

            I settle myself across from him on the bed so that we are facing each other and cross my legs.  

            "Here." 

            I impulsively thrust a wrapped package in his direction.  It's wrapped in red and green plaid paper, finished off with a gold bow. "I hope you like it; you're not exactly the easiest person to shop for."

            He shakes the box for a couple of minutes, grinning at me.  "Open it already, John."

            He chuckles. "This is our first Christmas, you know."

            I nod. "I know."

            Suddenly, he seizes the box and tears it viciously open.  "A box."

            "Yes. You do have to open it, you know." He rolls his eyes and grins playfully.  

            He finishes with the package and holds it up for me to see, a grin spreading across his face. "A frying pan."

            "I thought I'd let you try making me eggs, one more time."

            "I love it, Abby.  It's very thoughtful." I lean in to kiss him.  

            "I love you," I murmur, as our lips meet.  My heart stops.  Did I actually say that out loud … did he hear me?

            He freezes, pulling away. "What did you just say?"

            "It's true … I love you.  Merry Christmas." I can't keep the smile off my face.

            "I love you too," he kisses me again. 

            "I changed my mind," I mumble against his mouth, as the kiss becomes passionate.  

            "Hmm …"

            "That's the best Christmas present I'm going to get … you can give me your other one later."

            He chuckles, the sound emanating from deep in his throat, and with his spare arm, he knocks everything on the bed to the floor so we can finish what we've just started.

            "Merry Christmas …"

            "Merry Christmas."  

---------------- 

Any feedback? Then by all means, review. ;) 

Epilogue pending … 


	5. Part V

**Green Eggs and Ham**

Epilogue 

Author: Robbie (curlygurly87@hotmail.com)

Spoilers: Not really, General up through what we've seen of Season 9  

Archive: Ask and you shall receive.

Disclaimer:  While I'd love to be able to lay claim to every character in the story, not a one really belongs to me.  They are the property of the big shots at NBC, Warner Brothers, Amblin Productions etc … 

Summary: The passing of three years brings new experiences for our hero and his love.  

Authors Notes: Well, here's the end to our little story ;) I had a lot of fun writing this one, and it's my hope as an author that you've enjoyed reading it as much I enjoyed writing it. Thanks to Sara for beta-ing for me and thanks to all my loyal reviewers.  This one's for you guys! Merry Christmas to all, stay happy and safe! 

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_Three Years Later …  _

            It's been a long day, I want nothing more than to fall into bed beside my beloved and sleep until the end of the world. I ascend the staircase, treading lightly, just in case she's sleeping. A deep voice comes from her room and I figure that she must still be awake. 

            I come to the door and find it slightly ajar.  A deep voice inside speaks, low and soothingly.  As I come closer, the words come into focus. 

            "I will not eat them, Sam I am … I will not eat Green Eggs and Ham, I will not eat them in a house, I will not eat them by a mouse."

            A grin spreads slowly across my face as I push the door open.  My husband is sitting in the rocking chair; a precious bundle wrapped in a pink blanket is nestled in the crook of his arm.  Her tiny fingers are wrapped around his thumb and by the light of the dim lamp in her room; I can see her rich brown eyes eagerly watching his every move.  

            I smile ruefully. "Dr. Seuss?"

            He looks up, eyes brightening.  "Dr. Carter, actually, but you have my permission to call me whatever you'd like."

            "He wasn't even a real doctor, you know."

            I cross the room and kneel down by his knees, brushing a finger along my six month old daughter's arm.  She blinks tiredly as I stand up and take her from Carter's arms.  

            "Oh, mommy missed her baby today."  I position her so that her head rests on my shoulder and slowly start to rub her back. I walk over to the crib, gently kissing her soft downy hair.  I lay her down in the crib, smoothing a blanket over her sleeping form.  John walks over to me and wraps his arms around my waist, kissing the nape of my neck.  

            "We did good with her." I whisper.

            "It was the right decision.  I told you you'd love being a mother."

            I sigh as I grip his hand and we turn to leave her for the night.  "I hope she's okay."

            "She is okay," he affirms. 

            "I hope she stays okay."

            "She's perfect."

            "I know."

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            I crawl into bed, double checking that the baby monitor is on and that its right near my head if she needs me in the middle of the night.  So much has happened in the last three years since that fateful Christmas day that we lost that special patient.  She taught me to live life to the fullest, because no matter what you overcome, you never know what's going to hit you next.  I was afraid of commitment, of marriage, of motherhood.  And now, I'm married to John and I'm the mother of his child.  With a smile, I realize that my fantasy of seeing him read to our baby like he did to little Sasha Reynolds has come true.  

            He rolls over and wraps his arms around me.  After all this time together, the touch of our bare skin against each other still sends shivers down my spine.  So much has changed, and at the same time, some things, like his love for me, haven't changed at all.  

            I find myself thinking about having more children, giving our daughter siblings, enlarging our family. 

            John's voice brings me back to consciousness. "Would you eat them?"

            "Eat what?" I turn to him in confusion.  

            "Green eggs and ham?"

            I giggle seductively. "I don't know, … maybe in a bed." 

            "What about on my head?" He leans over me and begins to kiss my collarbone.

            "Only if it was clean." I mutter, leaning into his kisses; loosing myself in his touch.

            "My head is always clean" 

            "What about with some salt?" I continue this little banter.  We've been so tired and busy lately … we haven't had time for other things.  

            "Maybe chocolate malt." 

            I raise my eyebrows at him. "Would you eat them on my nose?" 

            "I would. Perhaps … beside a rose?"

            "You're cheating on me with someone named Rose?"

            "How'd you find out?"

            "I have a knack for these things.  Is she good in bed?"

            "Not quite as good as another woman I know."

            "There are other women?"

            "Just one."

            He seizes my face in his hands and kisses me with such passionate vigor, you'd think this was the first time we were ever going to make love.  

            "I love you."

            "I love you too."

            A fleeting thought crosses my mind before I'm completely lost in him.  _I've finally found what I've been searching for my entire live … it's him, it's our daughter.  I love them both so much; it's implausible to me to not have them in my life.  Despite the pitfalls, motherhood is for me. I can't imagine things any other way. _

            A throaty chuckle escapes from my lips, "Maybe we're getting a head start on that second baby …"

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I know there are a lot of people who are adverse to the idea of a little Carby baby, but I'm obviously not one of them.  I hope you enjoyed … how about letting me know and leaving a little review? 


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